The Sparrow and The Wolf
by East-Coast-Invictus
Summary: In the end, had either of them been any better than the other? Fall for the song of the sparrow or give in to the wolf with red roses? [Oneshot to the perspective of the Black Pearl]


She had loved life. When not playing the aggressive vixen, the temptress let herself revel in her sheer speed over the waves. Even dolphins were challenged to keep up whenever she called for a race. With a child-like love, she would go where ever her Masters commanded her and would do it with glee. It was especially fun whenever she was given full reign. To be hindered with anything less than full sail was never satisfying enough.

Her first Master treated her with respect and, fairly, treated her like a ship. She worked and fought and came through on top every time. Her second Master, however, treated her like a goddess. He put her on a pedestal and she danced for him whenever he asked. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him nor him for her, her gracious sparrow. Alas, she couldn't move as fast as he wished. She wasn't as smooth as she would like. But, this all changed the day the tiny Tyrant came into the picture.

When the flames licked her tarred sides, she screamed. How could her little bird let this happen? What had he done to anger that horrible man? With no one to save her, she watched her sparrow cry for her on the shore. Weeping, she let the hateful fire consume her and she sank beneath the merciful waves to a watery grave. There she lay for what felt like an eternity but was only an hour or so.

A voice lifted her burnt and tear-stained face from the ground. The melancholy song of her songbird. There he was down there with her. Were she able, she would have reached out to him. That was when that other ship, that monstrous _thing_ appeared and whisked her sparrow up to the surface. She suffered at not knowing what was happening on the rain-pelted surface. And then…life. It surged within her and she felt the wounds begin to heal, the gaps begin to close. With a great intake of breath, she felt herself rise to the surface assisted by giant tentacles. Brilliant glee came when she saw the changes, the gifts that the Sea Devil bestowed upon her. Sleeker, faster, stronger, _darker_.

From then on, she could please her sparrow even better. Her step had agility to it, a range of movement previous unreachable. The darling little songbird placed her back on her pedestal and for a while, things went back to blissful normality. But, as the weeks and months went by, she found herself craving something. She didn't know what it was, didn't know what fed this desire to do _something_.

Gradually, as she saw the ocean with new sight, she figured out what The Something was. Action. Battle. That spiky rush of thrill. It came to her the day they watched, from a distance, one of the Tyrant's crude harpies take down one of her fellows. Though her heart went out to the murdered one, she couldn't keep the excitement from running through her timbers as the boom sounds echoed over and under the water. Why couldn't they do more of that? She knew very well she could outrun and out perform any opponent they faced. She wanted to reach out for that figurative apple of sin, to taste the pleasure in bringing down her own prey. But, no. Her sparrow kept her on her pedestal and would not let her step down from on high to mingle with the commoners.

With these boundaries placed on her, she began to chafe under his command. She hated herself for hating her sparrow so. It was just so _frustrating_ not being allowed to do what every one of her peers engaged in. It was like being the overly-protected daughter with friends who could do whatever they wanted. She fell into a fickle depression.

Her salvation came when a new step found its way onto her deck. At first, it was a drunken step like her sparrow's. Her interest dulled, she slouched again. But, the next day, that same step came back with a vengeance and greater coordination. She could feel his eyes roving over her with a fire in them, could feel the awe and ambition within in him. The little pest he had with him was easily tolerated as soon as his words of praise reached her. A beauty, he said. Immaculate. Proper piratical potential. She glowed under his words and stretched out a sly, tempting hand to him and seduced the man as easily as switching tacks. Oh, if only this man, this ambitious wolf would be allowed to captain her for just a day, oh! How her heart would sing.

It was as if the man had heard her wishes.

Within two years, the wolf easily duped her sparrow with a few misplaced coins and took control of her helm. Oh, he was an _evil_ one. That just made her even more willing to work under his command. She bid her little bird a tearful goodbye as they sailed away from him. But, as she had stretched out a seducing hand to him, the wolf returned the favor and she forgot all about jolly 'ol what's his face. The wolf was no longer the wolf. He was her wolf. He was hers.

The next decade was one of brilliant revelry. Her wolf indulged her, humored her, gave her the reins whenever she pleased. In return, she comforted him in his plights and what little fears he had, satiated the predator. The sparrow had been protective. The wolf let go completely of the leash. Anything he asked, she did no matter how diabolical or dark it was. The forbidden fruit was sweet and enticing and she and her wolf let herself go for whatever taste they could get. Sin was nothing anymore. At least not to her.

In the later years of their affair, her ambitious little cur was losing his zest. While she never tired of dueling, she grew impatient of their quest just he did. More than once, she tried to perk him up but failed. The let down of mortals was their tendency to age or grow weary. For a while, she reflected his moods. When he was fickle, she was. When he was irascible, she was. When he was malevolent, so was she. They butted heads more and more often. He'd fail to keep her garb clean, she'd conveniently leave a rope somewhere for him to trip over it. They both seemed to acknowledge the fact they still were seduced by the other but there was still the element of having to get in the last word.

Then the sparrow reappeared, singing a different tune but a tune that was all too familiar. He sang more like the wolf, his innocence and darling naivety long gone in his exile. But she knew he still cared for her and was giving everything he could to put her back on her pedestal. In the light of this, her wolf became the wolf again. The sparrow stayed the sparrow. And she was torn between the two. She did not protest her bird's return to power. She had missed his careful, loving touch. But on the flip side, she mourned over the loss of her wolf, her tempting little cur. It was still so confusing.

Gradually, as her sparrow restored her to her former glory and brightness, she forgot the wolf and fell again for her supposed-to-be-dead Master. She reclaimed her child-like glee but also kept her vixen's smile. She saved that for special circumstances, like when dodging those Blue Coat fellows. For a few months, things were brilliant. And then, that Dark Day came.

Her sparrow's time was up. The Sea Devil was coming to claim what was his and lock her bird up. She could never let that happen and tried to stay ahead of those tentacles for a long as she could. But like mortals couldn't outrun death, the Sea Devil's pet was something she couldn't outrun. She wept when her bird ordered her to be abandoned. She cried and cried but he didn't seem to hear her. He didn't answer.

As the pet took her down with her still striving to reach for the surface, she wondered. She recalled sweetly the tender caring times with Jack Sparrow. She remembered the wild raging battles with Hector Barbossa. And she wondered…Which of them had been better?

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AN: Yet another spur of the moment one-shot. I'd greatly appreciate it to know what you think. A nod to catgirlutah's Pearl character.


End file.
